


500 Words: 26. Apology

by Sarahtoo



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 20:39:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4849751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarahtoo/pseuds/Sarahtoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fire_Sign had this wonderful idea to write fic based on the book "500 Words You Should Know" (gotta get me a copy of that book!).</p>
            </blockquote>





	500 Words: 26. Apology

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fire_Sign](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Sign/gifts).



> My random choice was "apology," which has two meanings: 
> 
> **1\. a regretful acknowledgment of an offense or failure.**  
>  "we owe you an apology"  
> synonyms: expression of regret, one's regrets  
> "I owe you an apology"
> 
>  **2\. a very poor or inadequate example of.**  
>  "we were shown into an apology for a bedroom"
> 
> ...so I felt the need to do both. I'm a giver that way.

i.

“Mac, I’m sorry!” Phryne said, laughter in her voice. She scurried after Mac as the doctor headed briskly down the hospital hallway. “It was an accident, I swear!”

Mac threw a rather poisonous glance at Phryne over one shoulder, never pausing. Her lips pursed, she pivoted on her heel to make the right-angle turn into her office and, holding the door, waited for Phryne to follow her in before closing it with a decisive _click_.

“Phryne Fisher, an accident is when you break a teacup or miss a turn. You don’t stand up your best friend for the third night in a row _on accident_!” Mac turned to face Phryne, hands on hips and fire in her eyes.

“You’re right, Mac.” Phryne’s eyes were truly apologetic as they gazed at her friend. She’d hurt Mac by her inattention, and that was not to be borne. “You have every reason to be angry with me. I have no excuse that is worth your hearing. At the very least, I should have sent a message that I’d been detained.” She lowered her head, looking up at Mac through her lashes. “Can you forgive me?”

Mac tilted her head and huffed. She’d known Phryne for a very long time, and in all that time, nothing had interfered with their friendship. Mac knew that Phryne’s detective work had become more than just a way to pass the time; it had become as much a passion for Phryne as medicine was for Mac. So Mac supposed it was understandable that the last three times they’d tried to meet up, Phryne had been pulled into a case. Still.

“You owe me,” she growled at Phryne, whose countenance brightened almost immediately.

“I have a lovely single-malt whiskey at home, if you’d like to come for dinner tonight?” Phryne offered as meekly as her vibrant nature would allow (which wasn’t particularly meekly, truth be told).

Mac narrowed her eyes. “Just you and me? No inspector, no case?”

“Scout’s honor,” Phryne said. “I’ve missed you, Mac.” Her voice was soft and sincere.

Mac let out another hmph, but gave in, as she’d always known she’d do. “Fine,” she muttered.

“Excellent!” Phryne whirled out the door, a breezy, “see you tonight, eight sharp!” floating behind her as her heels clicked away down the hall.

Mack laughed a little, and said to herself, “Apology accepted.” Shaking her head, she went back to her work. After all, she had someplace to be tonight.

====================

ii.

“You’re joking,” Phryne said, her eyebrows high as she surveyed the room that she’d been assured was among the most desirable wedding locations in Melbourne. “They can’t get married here, Jack! It’s dreadful!”

Jack grimaced, his own expression skeptical. “It does look a bit the worse for wear. But it’s within Collins’ budget, and the doors do open out onto the garden, which is lovely.”

Phryne stalked around the room, which was good-sized, but badly in need of refurbishing. The walls, likely once a butter yellow, were now a dingy cream, and the grime of years darkened the waiscoting. The floors were herringbone parquet and not too deep in disrepair, but the small stage set at one end of the long room was carpeted in what might once have been a rich green; it was now dark with dirt and riddled with worn spots and holes. The chandeliers were dull, many of the light bulbs burnt out, and the mirrors that lined the room at regular intervals were tarnished.

“…Perhaps it’ll look better in evening light?” Phryne wasn’t sure that was likely, but she supposed it was possible. 

Pursing her lips, she moved toward the garden doors and gasped. Five sets of french doors set in one long wall of the room opened out onto what might have been one of the most glorious gardens that she’d ever seen. Paths set with flat pavers wound down from each door through riotously blooming flowers of every sort—peonies and hydrangeas, roses and daisies, violets and iris all mixed in an abandoned, joyous tangle that was immensely pleasing. Trees set at intervals sent the scents of ripening fruit and evergreen wafting through the air, and randomly set alcoves were furnished with lovely small benches perfect for lovers’ trysts. Where the paths converged, there was a promenade that overlooked a stretch of vividly green grass. In the center of the green sat a round gazebo set with white railings, stained glass, and gingerbread trim.

“Now this,” Phryne said, taking Jack’s hand and pulling him out the doors, “is worth the rental of that apology of a ballroom, don’t you think?”

Jack, whose attention was wholly on Phryne’s hand clasping his, agreed. “Completely worth it, Miss Fisher.” He followed her, smiling slightly and hoping that Collins was amenable to an outdoor wedding.


End file.
